O Death The Healer, Scorn Thou Not,

The So-called Mother Of The Child Isn't The Child's Begetter, But Only A Sort Of Nursing Soil For The New-sown Seed. The Man, The One On Top, Is The True Parent, While She, A Stranger, Foster's A Stranger's Sprout.

A People's Wrath Voiced Abroad Bringeth Grave Danger, No Less Than Public Curse Pronounced.

Let There Be Wealth Without Tears; Enough For The Wise Man Who Will Ask No Further.

The Field Of Doom Bears Death As Its Harvest.

Wiles And Deceit Are Female Qualities.